


my house of stone, your ivy grows

by doranells



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Book 3, F/F, Pining, What else is new, ava is being ava, juliet is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:54:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28698015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doranells/pseuds/doranells
Summary: One day, Juliet wakes up and realizes she is hopelessly, helplessly in love with Ava.It's only kind of a problem.
Relationships: Detective & Natalie "Nat" Sewell, Detective/Ava du Mortain, Female Detective/Ava du Mortain
Comments: 3
Kudos: 47





	my house of stone, your ivy grows

**Author's Note:**

> this took me six months on and off to write. i have a headache from it. i wouldn't shut up. sorry for this 12k beast :) also thank u to ellie for proofreading ily!!!
> 
> follow me on tumblr @nataliesewll :)

Things change. They change like the seasons — subtle and slow, sliding from the chill of winter to the tentative warmth of spring into the full, blooming heat of summer. Juliet feels the changes after they happen, after she’s already started to settle into the new, weird norm her life has taken on. 

Farah comes over and watches movies with her, posted up on the couch with snacks and drinks and blankets. Sometimes Tina joins them, but other times it’s just her and Farah sprawled out in the living room laughing at the TV until their sides hurt. 

(There’s also the quiet times, when Farah lets Juliet rest her head on her shoulder and the TV’s volume is on low, when they don’t say anything because they don’t have to. In those moments, Juliet feels a peace she’s not used to feeling, and she loves it once she becomes used to it.)

Nat accompanies her to shops. Grocery shopping, the bookstore, to a mall to buy a new coat for the winter; wherever she goes, Nat almost always says yes to following. And one day, while they’re shopping, Nat disappears for a while. She returns just as Juliet is just about to leave, pressing a necklace — a beautiful one, with a gold chain and a tiny pear shaped diamond that glints in the sunlight — into her palm with a smile. When Juliet fusses about it, Nat simply tells her it’s a gift for all she’s done for her and the team. 

(Juliet nearly cries, but she wears the necklace almost every day after that and laughs when Farah asks Nat why she never buys her jewelry.)

She even manages to wiggle her way into Morgan’s realm of existence. At first she’s not sure if Morgan even wants her there, and she asks her, but the response from Morgan is typical and scary and Juliet leaves it alone. It isn’t until one day, when Morgan is forced to walk her home and Juliet leads her down a quiet path that winds through the woods, that she realizes the way to Morgan’s heart might just be silence and nature. 

(It takes her a while to notice that Morgan has stopped grunting and groaning on their days together. The first time Morgan keeps her from falling face-first into the mud after tripping over a root, Juliet smiles so wide it hurts, but Morgan just rolls her eyes and keeps walking.)

Ava, though. Ava keeps Juliet guessing even after she’s secured her place with everyone else on the team. There are more good moments than bad with Ava, at least. Ava stops biting her head off after a few weeks and Juliet stops bristling every time Ava opens her mouth and they finally start to appreciate the other — even though, sometimes, appreciate might be a bit too strong of a word. Tolerate seems to fit the mood better on the days where Ava storms out of the room and Juliet simmers in silence — and it seems like Juliet is finally, thankfully, finding her groove as a human in a group full of vampires. 

Until one day she wakes up and realizes that shit, she is hopelessly and helplessly in love with Ava. 

It doesn’t come out of nowhere. It’s been weeks, maybe even months of development. The realization hits her like a train at full speed, but when she thinks back on it she can see it’s been a slow buildup, a rise of momentum that’s taken long enough to gain traction that she’s missed the signs until suddenly, she isn’t missing them anymore, but she’s already barreled face-first into a well of awareness.

The next time she sees Ava, it’s a day later, and she’s standing outside the Warehouse in a shaft of glimmering sunrise-colored sunlight when Juliet pulls up for a meeting. Her heart skips a beat when she spots Ava standing there, her breath hitching, and she takes a moment to get her breathing under control before she turns off her car and gets out. 

Ava watches her as she approaches. The morning air is brisk, and the slight breeze tugs at the ends of the strands of hair that’s falling out of her bun. Juliet feels the briefest inclination to brush the lock of hair behind Ava’s ear, but she keeps her hands firmly at her sides and instead offers Ava a warm smile. 

“Good morning,” Juliet says. 

“Good morning, Detective,” Ava replies. She looks Juliet up and down, sharp green eyes taking her in like she’s looking for any hidden injuries or ailments. Juliet shifts her weight, pulling the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder as she lets herself be inspected.

When Ava seems satisfied that Juliet isn’t about to drop dead any time soon, Juliet gives her a smile. “Enjoying the morning? It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Ava stiffens. Not a lot, but just enough that Juliet catches it before she turns abruptly away. In the speckled light coming through the trees, the strong, sharp planes of Ava’s face seem almost like they’re hewn from marble. 

“I was making sure the Warehouse is secure,” Ava says. Juliet would have believed her if not for the quickness of the words and the way Ava refuses to look at her. Juliet bites back a chuckle. 

“I’m sure the chipmunks and squirrels will have a hard time getting past the defenses,” Juliet chirps, which gets Ava to finally give her such a baffled, cutting glare Juliet knows there’s a mini lecture coming. So she reaches out and grabs Ava’s wrist, her touch gentle and light. 

“I’m just kidding, Ava,” Juliet says. 

“The safety and security of the Warehouse is important,” Ava all but huffs. She doesn’t pull her hand away, though, and Juliet’s heart skips a beat. “If somebody were to break in, you could be in danger.” 

Juliet doesn’t say anything. She just lifts a brow. Ava’s brain seems to catch up with her mouth, because Ava adds, “I don’t want to put the team into any situations with unnecessary risk. Especially in a place they consider their home.” 

“Gotcha,” Juliet nods. There’s an overwhelming tightness in her chest that always keeps her on her toes whenever Ava is around, one that she sometimes ignores. She lets go of Ava’s hand and Ava steps away, smoothing down the front of her coat despite the fact that there isn’t a wrinkle in sight. Juliet’s own hand drops back down to her side, her fingers flexing and tingling where her skin had touched Ava’s. 

“We should go inside,” Ava says suddenly. “We shouldn’t keep the rest of the team waiting.” 

Ava turns on her heels and marches through the door. Juliet takes a moment, blinking in the early-morning sun, before she takes off after Ava. Neither of them speak until they reach the sitting room, where Farah sees them come in together and bursts out a comment that has Nat sighing in exasperation and apologizing. Juliet just smiles and settles into a seat and watches Ava hover a few feet away, seeming unsure, until Rebecca breezes into the room and Ava’s attention — as well as Juliet’s — is firmly directed to the briefing. 

(She has to ignore the feeling of Ava’s eyes on the back of her head until, eventually, she can’t. And when she turns around to meet Ava’s gaze, sees the softness in her expression for a split second before it becomes cold, unyielding stone, she feels her heart flutter in her chest and knows every vampire in the room heard it.) 

After what feels like hours but is most likely just minutes, the meeting ends and Ava disappears out the door with Rebecca. Nat walks her to her car, and Juliet spends a few too many minutes sitting with her forehead pressed to her steering wheel before she drives to work.

Because this — Ava’s stubborn avoidance, denial, whatever it is that pushes and pulls Juliet like the tide and makes her feel sometimes like she’s drifting out of Wayhaven’s channel and out to sea — it settles in until its as ingrained in Juliet’s life as her morning cup of coffee or the drive to the station. 

It’s there, until one day it isn’t. 

-

Juliet realizes after about a week that Ava’s avoiding her. 

She’s sure if she asked, Ava would deny it. Perhaps not vehemently, but she would. She’d say she isn’t, even though Morgan notices and Farah says something about it one late Saturday afternoon when Ava sees Juliet sitting in a patch of sunlight in the sitting room and she ignores her so deliberately Juliet feels almost angry. 

Ava’s in there for perhaps a minute, long enough to fetch Nat from the room, before she turns on her heels and storms back through the door she came in. 

Nat shoots them all an apologetic look before she gets up and follows Ava out of the room, the door swinging shut behind her.

“What’s her problem?” Farah asks loudly. Morgan elbows her roughly in the side, hissing something Juliet doesn’t catch because she isn’t listening, too focused on how she suddenly feels cold despite the warmth of the sun on her skin. She stares at her hands in her lap. 

“Jules?” Farah’s voice is gentle now. Juliet looks up. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Juliet says after a moment too long. She shakes her head and pushes herself to her feet. “Yeah. I’m fine. Excuse me.” 

Farah doesn’t follow her, and whether it's because of a rare moment of self restraint or Morgan’s intervention, Juliet doesn’t know. She doesn’t care. She pushes out of the room and into the hallway, the heels of her boots echoing against the floors as she walks down the hall. 

Until she turns the corner, still deciding between going to the kitchen to eat something disgustingly sweet or to her room to blast Taylor Swift, and sees Ava hovering at the end of the hall. 

Juliet freezes. Nat is nowhere in sight, and Ava sees her and goes still and they stand there. It feels like time has stopped and they’re suspended in open space, the air crackling with electric tension that makes goosebumps erupt across Juliet’s skin. She wants to talk, wants to form some cohesive argument that’ll pull an explanation for the avoidance out of Ava. But nothing is easy with Ava, not when Juliet thinks about it. Getting absolutely anything out of her is like tearing down a stone wall with her bare hands. Any progress Juliet makes feels like catching a glimpse of blue sky between storm clouds, only for the walls to go back up and the clouds to roll back in, taller and darker than they were before. 

Juliet’s jaw clenches. She takes a step forward. 

“Ava?”

The sound of her voice jolts Ava out of whatever trance they’d locked each other in. Even from the other side of the hallway, Juliet can see Ava’s mask of stone-cold granite slam down. There’s a twinge of something that flutters in her chest at the sight of it, of the impersonal look she throws her way. 

“I’m sorry, Detective. I’m afraid I don’t have time to talk.” Ava nods at her, a clear-cut dismissal, and doesn’t wait for Juliet’s brain to even process the fact that she’s being left alone in the hallway before Ava is gone again. Damn vampire speed. 

Juliet stands there, limbs heavy and a deep frown on her face. She stands alone in the hallway until Farah’s loud laugh snaps her back to her body and she blinks, rubbing a hand down her face with a deep sigh, and turns to head towards the kitchen. 

Ice cream it is. 

-

Two weeks later, Nat is helping her cook dinner in her apartment when Juliet finally says, “Ava’s avoiding me.” 

Nat had brought wine. Juliet doesn’t know much about wine, but knowing Nat, it’s probably expensive and definitely old. Juliet’s drank most of it so far, and she doesn’t feel bad about it because Nat keeps topping her glass off every time it seems even close to half-empty. Which means Juliet is on roughly her third glass of wine, and all she’s eaten are the appetizers Nat had whipped up soon after arriving. 

“I know,” Nat sighs. She puts the lid on top of the salmon cooking in the pan and turns to Juliet. Her lips are pressed into a thin line and her hair, which is long enough to brush her collarbones now, is pulled back into a small bun at the back of her head.

Juliet struggles with words for a moment, wrestling them into some semblance of submission. Nat, ever-patient Nat, waits for her brain and mouth to cooperate without an ounce of annoyance.

Juliet lets out a short, frustrated sigh. “I don’t like it.”

“I don’t expect you would,” Nat says kindly. Her long fingers drum a restless beat on her thigh and Juliet grabs her wine glass and drinks. Nat’s gentle brown eyes search her face as she finishes off the glass, the wood of the chair creaking beneath her, the food hissing angrily on the stove. 

“I’m getting all these mixed signals,” Juliet sighs, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I know she cares. I know she wants me to be safe. But the moment I get close, she shoves me away and it’s frustrating, Nat.” 

Juliet doesn’t even wait for Nat to pour her more wine. She takes the bottle from the edge of the table and pours it herself, filling her glass up until the bottle is gone. She’ll have to buy Nat another bottle of wine, though she probably won’t accept it. Nat’s funny like that. Open and kind and warm. Nothing like Ava, with her sky-high walls of iron and shields of ice. 

Juliet shakes her head. She shouldn’t compare Nat and Ava. It’s like comparing a mountain and the ocean; both beautiful pieces of nature, but beyond that there’s scarcely a similarity. Besides, Juliet doesn’t want to compare them, pit them against each other, when they are so close they consider each other sisters. 

“I give her all these chances,” Juliet continues. She swirls the wine around in her glass, letting the sweet smell of fruit ground her to her tiny kitchen, to her creaking old dining chairs and the bouquet of bright flowers on the table. “I give her all these chances and yet we still go around in this circle without getting anywhere. It’s like she’s stuck in a cycle and she can’t break out of it.” 

Nat frowns. Juliet’s spent enough time with Nat now that she’s finally starting to decipher her little expressions, cataloguing them away for future reference. Nat’s frown now is contemplative; the curve of her mouth is soft, almost sympathetic, and her eyes are wide and a little bit sorrowful. 

Juliet’s own mouth tightens into a thin line. She doesn’t want the pity or the sorrow or any of it. She wants answers, even if she knows deep down Nat will give them to her and she won’t like them. 

“You must understand that Ava is...stubborn,” Nat winces slightly at the word. Juliet barely keeps her eye roll contained as Nat turns back to the food on the stove, lifting the lid of the pot and letting the steam release. It briefly fogs up the stove hood before it dissipates, and the sizzling of the salmon makes Juliet’s stomach rumble. “She’s scared.”

“Scared?” Juliet repeats in disbelief. She leans back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other and brushing a hand through her hair. “Ava’s scared of me?” 

“Not scared of you,” Nat corrects. “Scared of what you make her feel.”

Juliet takes another sip of wine to bite back the remark on the tip of her tongue. Nat glances at her over her shoulder before she pokes at the salmon in the pan. Juliet’s face feels hot — she can’t decide if it’s from the heat of the kitchen, the wine, Nat’s statement, or all of the above, but it annoys her to no end regardless.

Nat sighs and puts the lid back on the pan. “Ava cares. She cares more than you think. More than she’s comfortable admitting. She’s the oldest of us, and she’s had her ways for centuries, Jules. She’s gone through her life alone for a very long time.” 

“She has you guys,” Juliet points out. “And the Agency. She’s not alone.” 

Nat looks at her with mild reproach. “As in, without love. Romantic love.” 

“She doesn’t have to be in love with me,” Juliet says sharply. “I’m not asking her to marry me. I just want to know what her deal is.” 

“She is in love with you,” Nat says firmly, and Juliet feels as if she’s been slapped, her skin stinging and eyes watering with the force of it. “And that scares her. The vulnerability, the feeling — it terrifies her.” Nat folds her arms over her chest, and Juliet wonders if Nat knows just how wildly off-kilter her entire world has become. 

She’s in love with you.

Juliet’s head is spinning. Spinning with the wine and the words coming out of Nat’s mouth, said so casually but with such conviction that it feels more like Nat had been stating a concrete fact rather than an opinion. 

Because Ava — Ava is stubborn, yes, and her first priority is always keeping Juliet safe. But the avoidance has had Juliet feeling like she’s lost adrift among a tide of stars in a sea of uncertainty. Especially after the carnival. Especially because sometimes she’ll find herself thinking of the way Ava’s hand felt in hers, or looking over and finding Ava’s eyes already locked on her, such a bright green and so intense Juliet’s convinced she’ll be swallowed whole by it.

Ava’s quiet utterance in the hazy hours after they’d rescued Sanja from the Trappers. The same words she’s been rolling around in her head for months: 

Tu omnia.

You are everything. 

Juliet’s throat is tight and there’s stubborn tears welling in the corners of her eyes and fuck, she’s a little drunk. A little too drunk to be having this conversation. A little too drunk to be thinking about all the ways it feels right with Ava despite everything. 

Her fingers curl around the stem of her wine glass. “I don’t want her to be scared of me.”

Nat’s face shifts. More pity. Understanding. Her eyes look sad and Juliet’s chest tightens further until she’s forced to look away. She follows the grain of the wood in the table because it’s easier to face than Nat.

Juliet feels a gentle hand on her shoulder. Damn vampire speed — she didn’t even hear Nat move. But she looks up at the touch to see Nat’s small, comforting smile and she forces herself to exhale.

“She just needs time,” Nat says, which is something she’s said before: Ava needs time. Give her time. Give her space. Let her figure it out.

“I’ve given her time,” Juliet says, the words slicing out of her more sharply than she’d intended. Nat doesn’t take offense. Her patience is endless, at least where Juliet and Ava are both concerned. Thankfully. 

“I know. She just needs more.” Nat’s hand slips down Juliet’s shoulder to squeeze her arm. Juliet doesn’t know what to say, so she doesn’t say anything at all. Nat searches her face carefully, and though she’s sure she doesn’t mean to, the way she does it makes Juliet feel like she’s being read like a book, her thoughts and feelings spread out on delicate pages for anyone to rifle through. 

Maybe Nat just knows her well. Maybe she is an open book, where Ava’s concerned. It’s not like Juliet’s ever shied away from her feelings. Taken time to understand them, yes. But she’s never been one to run from something just because it scares her. 

If it were anyone else, she would have asked them what they want from her and moved on. She’s tried with Ava — tried so many times she’s lost count, but she feels stuck. She doesn’t want to let go. She just wants Ava to give in to whatever this thing is between them and let them both move on, together, into whatever comes next. 

If it was anyone else, this would be over. 

But it isn’t just anyone else. It’s Ava. And for some reason, that makes all the difference. 

Juliet looks up at Nat. The feeling of helplessness is stifling. 

“Are you alright?” Nat asks. Her hand is still on Juliet’s arm and Juliet covers it with her own. 

“No,” Juliet admits. “I’m not. But I will be.” 

-

It’s rare anymore for Juliet to have a true day off, but she finds herself waking up late the next morning with absolutely nothing to do. At least, nothing work related. Or vampire related.

She takes her time waking up, stretching out her limbs and listening to the pops and cracks of her body as she pushes herself from her bed. She wanders first to her bathroom, then to the kitchen, getting her coffee started and pulling a box of off-brand cereal from her cabinet. 

When her coffee is done, Juliet wanders to the window seat in her living and settles there. The sky is a clear, brilliant blue with not a cloud in sight. A flock of little black birds are stark against the horizon as they fly East. It’s supposed to be warm today, according to the weatherman, and she can feel the heat of the sun when she leans against the window.

She has nothing to do today. No one to see, no trips to the station or the Warehouse. No paperwork that’s pressing enough that it can’t wait until Monday. No duties or obligations that require her immediate attention. She feels like she hasn’t had a moment to breathe in months between Falk and the bounty and everything in between.

She hasn’t had a moment to spend a day doing nothing in a long time.

And since it’s her day to do nothing, she decides to go to town.

-

Haley’s isn’t that busy when Juliet opens the door. The mid-morning rush seems to have died down, so there’s only a couple of people scattered around at tables, nibbling on pastries and drinking coffee and tea out of worn ceramic mugs. 

Haley smiles so brightly her cheeks dimple when she sees her. “Good morning, Jules.”

Juliet smiles back, her eyes already roving the case of pastries next to the register. “Hey, Haley. Been busy today?”

“It hasn’t been too bad,” Haley says with a light shrug. She has her hair pushed back today by a silk bandana, pink as the blush on her cheeks. Juliet spots a lone chocolate croissant in the case and eyes it hungrily while Haley follows her eye and smiles. 

“Mr. Brown brought all his grandkids in earlier. I thought for sure they’d buy me out of all of those.” Haley slides the pastry case open and grabs the croissant with a pair of small tongs, sliding it into a thin brown paper bag. “You got lucky today, Jules.” 

“I’m not complaining,” Juliet says. She’s been needing some luck; it feels like it's been all too long since something’s gone right. “I’ll take — “

“Vanilla latte with extra espresso?” Haley guesses, and Juliet fights back another smile. 

“How’d you know?” 

Haley’s eyes sparkle. “If I didn’t know your coffee order by now, what kind of friend or barista would I be?” She glances at the register screen and reads out the total. Juliet rummages in her bag for her wallet and hands Haley the money, slipping the change into the tip jar when Haley isn’t looking. 

“I’ll pop this in the microwave for you and get started on your coffee,” Haley says. She turns and gets to work while Juliet shuffles over to the other end of the counter to wait, pulling out her phone to check emails.

She hasn’t even opened her inbox when she hears someone say, “Hey, angel,” and her entire body goes tense. 

She closes her eyes and takes a breath, thinking it’s better to try and keep her attitude in check before she causes a scene. Then, slowly, Juliet opens her eyes and turns to look at Bobby, who is wearing clothes that are way too fancy for a Saturday morning and has a sly smile on her face. 

There’s a sour taste in Juliet’s mouth. “Bobby.” 

“Alone this morning?” Bobby asks, sliding half a step closer. Her heels make her tall enough that Juliet has to tilt her chin up to look her in the eye. She refuses to let it annoy her, though she can feel it simmering just below the surface. 

“I’m a grown woman, Bobby. I don’t need escorts.” Juliet keeps her hands by her side even though she really wants to cross her arms over her chest. “Do you need anything, or are you just here to be a nuisance?”

A single well-kept brow lifts, and Bobby’s smile turns lazy. “I was just wondering where those agents were. You all seem so inseparable.” She brushes her hair over her shoulder. “It’s just so rare to see you alone, angel. I wanted to check up on you.” 

“Well, I’m fine,” Juliet snaps. “It’s not your job to check up on me.”

“Don’t get so upset, Juliet,” Bobby practically croons, and she even turns her smile into a pout that at one point, a long, long time ago, would’ve had Juliet melting into a puddle. “There’s no need to get defensive. You’ll scare people off like that.” 

“Obviously, it doesn’t work on everyone,” Juliet remarks dryly. Haley catches her eye, sliding her drink and croissant across the counter. 

“Do you want something, Bobby?” Haley asks, and Juliet mouths a desperate thank you at her as Bobby waves dismissively. 

“In a minute,” Bobby says. Her eyes are still locked on Juliet. Juliet crams her phone into her bag and turns to leave even though she’d been planning on staying for a while, drinking her coffee and putting together one of the puzzles Haley keeps in a little nook near the window. Another reason to be annoyed that Bobby’s interrupted her morning. 

Juliet grabs her coffee and her croissant, clutching them both to keep her hands from forming fists and swinging. The last thing she needs is to be brought into her own station for doing something stupid and ill-advised. 

“You don’t have time to stop and catch up with a friend?” Bobby drawls. Juliet’s jaw clenches. Of course Bobby considers them friends when Juliet would love to never see her again. Even the sound of the word on Bobby’s tongue makes her shudder, her shoulders tensing. 

“I have things to do, Bobby.” She moves to shoulder past, but Bobby steps in her way. Juliet doesn’t even try to hold back the withering glare. Bobby doesn’t seem to care. 

“You’re adorable when you’re annoyed, angel,” Bobby fucking purrs, smooth and smug as a cat with cream. Juliet’s skin crawls at the sound of it and the hazy memories it dredges up from the murky depths of her mind. “Have someone to see?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Juliet tries to step past her again, but Bobby mirrors her, the sharp points of her heels tapping against the floor. Damnit. 

“You and that agent seem to be friendly,” Bobby continues, and though Juliet knows its bait, knows who Bobby is referring to, she narrows her eyes and plays dumb. 

“I’m friends with all of them,” Juliet says even though she shouldn’t. “You’re going to have to be more specific.” 

Bobby’s smile deepens. Hook, line, and sinker. “You know which one. The blonde one. Tall, muscled, terrifying. Ring a bell?” 

Juliet plants her feet. Her teeth are grinding together so loud she’s sure everyone in the bakery can hear it. Bobby doesn’t budge, because of course she doesn’t, she’s never around unless she wants something or wants to stir something up because she’s the biggest nuisance Juliet has ever dealt with. Juliet’s pretty sure Bobby’s entire agenda since the day they broke up has been to crop back up into her life when it’s most inconvenient, and she’s like a fucking cockroach: Juliet just can’t seem to get rid of her. 

“My relationship with Agent du Mortain — or anyone — is none of your business, Bobby,” Juliet says in the most authoritative voice she can muster. It should leave no room for argument, no room for snide comments or questions, so she shoulders past Bobby and makes a beeline for the door before she says something that’ll get her crucified in the paper. 

“So you admit it then, angel?” Bobby calls. Juliet freezes with her hand on the door. “There is something going on between you two?” 

Juliet should leave. She should push through the door and go find a spot in town to sit and eat her croissant and drink her coffee and forget about Bobby. She’s twenty-six goddamn years old and she shouldn’t let Bobby ruin her day, not anymore, because they’d been an item, what, six years ago? The past is in the past, she can hear Uncle Liam say, and just because she’s stubborn and still bitter about something that happened in college doesn’t mean she should let it make her angry anymore. 

But Juliet is stubborn. And Bobby does make her angry, even if Juliet wishes she didn’t. So Juliet turns around and meets Bobby’s eyes from across the room, conscious of the people watching them now, of the people staring and cataloguing this entire exchange to be redistributed as gossip later. Juliet will be the talk of the town — again. 

“Go find a story somewhere else,” Juliet says, her voice deceptively even for the amount of bitterness churning the waters of her temper. “And stay the hell out of my relationships.” 

She’s stubborn, but she isn’t completely stupid. She’s got more of a leash on herself than she thinks, but Juliet can feel her grip on that control slipping. 

She pushes through the door and leaves, the bell above the door dinging cheerfully with her exit. Her thoughts are hazy and she doesn’t realize how far she’s gone or how fast she’s walking until she’s almost back at her apartment and she has so much restless energy coursing through her that she feels like she’s about to take flight, soaring through the trees like a bird in search of a place to sing. 

Juliet takes a long swig of too-hot coffee and feels stupid, stupid tears stinging her eyes. She refuses to cry. Refuses to think about the last month, the trappers, the carnival, the damn fireworks. Refuses to think about how Bobby’s words hit her, Nat’s gentle frown, Ava’s brooding silence. Refuses to think about how tired she is. How scattered her thoughts are. 

Juliet makes it to her apartment without taking in any of the walk there. Her own heartbeat pounds in her ears and she takes the stairs two at a time, keys in hand when she reaches her door, and she shoves the door open and deposits her croissant and half-drunk coffee in the kitchen before she turns on her heels and goes to her room to change. 

She grabs the first pair of leggings she finds and puts them on, changing into a sports bra and the first shirt she finds that seems clean and matches. She pulls her hair up into a ponytail that definitely looks like crap, grabs her keys, phone, and headphones, and is out the door in about three minutes. 

She picks a playlist on her way down the stairs. She does some stretches in the grass. The moment she’s back on the sidewalk, she takes off. 

The sun is warm against Juliet’s skin and before long, she’s sweating. She hasn’t gone on a run in a while — between work and the Agency and the mess that is her social life, she hasn’t had the time. She’s effectively replaced running with sparring, anyways, which isn’t the end of the world to her. She’s never particularly enjoyed running, but she’s always figured that even if it isn’t all that fun, it expels the potential energy she seems to store in her limbs and lets her breathe in fresh air every once in a while. 

She takes a path that cuts through the woods about a quarter mile from her apartment. Her feet pound into the dirt path and she’s only half conscious of the roots lying in wait to trip her. The last thing she needs is to fall in the middle of the woods with no one around, and she vaguely wonders if any of Unit Bravo would hear her if she started yelling. Someone definitely would, and she doesn’t have enough of a death wish to find out if there’s some menacing type of supernaturals lurking in the Wayhaven woods. 

(She’d probably end up having to deal with them anyways, but that’s beside the point.)

Early summer sunlight slants through the trees. It’s a few degrees cooler under the cover of the canopies, bringing reprieve to the stifling heat that’s turning Juliet’s cheeks pink and making wisps of her hair stick to her already sweat-damp skin. She’s alone on the trail, comforted by the fact that Bobby wouldn’t be caught dead in the forest. Not when she could work out in the tiny gym in town. 

The thought of Bobby spikes white-hot anger through her. She picks up her pace, a pleasant burning in the muscles of her legs. She shouldn’t let Bobby piss her off so much. If anything, it just gives Bobby a reason to rile her up and the town something to gossip about. Because her and Bobby have never been covert, not about anything. 

Bobby’s been convinced Juliet’s been in love with her since Juliet broke it off at college. 

Juliet’s been looking for a way to convince Bobby of that falsity since practically the day after that. A way that doesn’t involve Juliet getting so mad she sees red and does something stupid, like throwing a punch. The last thing she needs is a reputation as a brawler. Especially since she’s not normally the type to start swinging — Bobby just knows how to push her buttons like nobody else. And contrary to what Juliet’s temper makes her believe, she doesn’t actually want to hurt Bobby. 

She just wants to never see her again. 

Especially when she goes off talking about Ava. 

Juliet nearly stumbles. A rock comes loose beneath her shoe and she slams into the trunk of a young tree, the bark rough beneath her palm. Her chest is heaving and the music blasting through her headphones is tinny and too upbeat for Juliet’s current mood.

She wonders if anyone else notices her and Ava. Ava’s done a startlingly good job at keeping her and Unit Bravo under the radar, but if Bobby has taken notice then so have other people. 

Or maybe Bobby just knows where to hit her to take her down easily. Bobby’s always had that talent. She’s always been able to pinpoint the thing that Juliet’s most sensitive about and attack it until Juliet either snaps or runs or both. 

Juliet wipes sweat from her brow and tilts her face towards the sky. Bobby coming after this...Ava situation really isn’t the end of the world. Especially since Juliet isn’t even sure that Ava would let there be an Ava situation if she had her way. It hurts to think about, makes Juliet’s heartbeat feel feeble in her chest, because she knows deep down that if Ava was given all the time in the world, Juliet isn’t sure anything would even come of it. 

She feels the stubborn prickle of tears for the second time in twenty minutes and takes off running again. 

The burning of her lungs is a welcome distraction that only lasts so long before her brain pulls Ava back to the forefront of her thoughts. She huffs and annoyed breath as the path winds back towards town. 

Maybe she’ll talk to Ava next time she sees her. The Warehouse is only so big, and Juliet is part of the team — she deserves an explanation, not only as a member of Unit Bravo but as a friend, and Ava might not give it to her but Juliet’s willing to wrestle it out of her if it means that this horrible, festering tension breaks between them. 

Nat’s words from dinner the night before ring loud in her head: she needs time. 

Fuck it.

Juliet’s given her time. Plenty of space. 

This is getting ridiculous.

Juliet breaks the treeline and squints into the harsh sunlight. She slows to a light jog as she gets back onto the sidewalk, the cars driving by at an idle pace on the road. Her apartment comes into view after a couple of minutes, and the shade of the trees in front of her building sounds like a phenomenal idea.

She winds down to a quick walk as she nears the grass, practically collapsing on the grass once she’s under the tree. She flops onto her back and lets the cool grass tickle her skin, pushing her hair out of her face as her breathing starts to go back to normal and her skin cools down. Her eyes shut and she waits until her pulse isn’t racing in her ears to turn down her music.

Juliet is still a sweaty pile on the grass when her skin prickles and she senses someone standing near her. She doesn’t even try to hold back the groan as she opens her eyes and hopes with her entire being that it isn’t Bobby —

She blinks into the sunlight, the silhouette lightening until Juliet can identify the newcomer. “Ava?”

Ava stares down at her, sunglasses hiding the green of her eyes from Juliet’s view. Ava steps forward, effectively blocking the sun with her head and lighting her hair up until it’s liquid gold in the light. 

“Detective,” Ava greets gruffly. “What are you doing?”

“I went on a run,” Juliet says. She throws her arm over her eyes to keep from seeing the disapproving look no doubt gracing Ava’s face. She braces for impact in three, two, one...

“And you didn’t bring anyone?” Ava grinds out. Juliet sighs. “Or tell anyone where you’d gone?”

“I’m not dead,” Juliet points out. Any of the agitation her run had worked out is making a reappearance now and she almost wants to scream. 

“If someone would have come after you — “

“We would have dealt with it,” Juliet snaps. She can feel Ava’s glowering stare without having to see it, the image of it so clear in her mind it’s practically a picture in a book. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not ‘fine,’” Ava says tightly. 

Juliet lets her arm drop back to her side. “What are you doing here, Ava?”

Ava stiffens. Without her coat on, Juliet can see every flutter and shift of muscle in her arms and shoulders. She traces the line of Ava’s bicep beneath her t-shirt before she realizes what she’s doing and drags her gaze back up to meet Ava’s. 

“I was coming to check on you.” Juliet pushes herself onto her elbows. Ava swallows. “It’s important I — we keep an eye on you. Especially with the bounty. Anyone could come after you.”

“Well, I’m alive,” Juliet sighs. She gets to her feet and realizes just how close Ava is standing. She tries not to dwell on how tight it makes her throat or how her pulse jumps in anticipation. “Mission accomplished.”

“On the contrary, my mission is far from over,” Ava shoots back. She crosses strong arms over her chest and Juliet has to look away, her mouth going dry. 

“Then if you’re going to stay, I’m going inside.” Juliet starts walking without checking to see if Ava is coming. “You’re welcome to stay here for a while.”

She doesn’t turn her music off as she walks to the door. In the reflection of the glass, she sees her cherry-red face and mess of flyaways, her bangs sticking to her cheeks. She’s a sweaty mess and all she wants is to shower. But with Ava here — she can see her at her back, sunglasses still pulled down and shoulders rigid — she knows she probably won’t get the chance. 

Besides. Every time she leaves Ava alone, something of Juliet’s gets broken. She isn’t keen on finding out what piece of furniture or decor in her apartment is Ava’s next victim. 

Juliet throws the door open. Ava catches it as a blast of cold air hits Juliet’s skin and she almost sighs in relief. If the temperature change makes Ava uncomfortable, she doesn’t say anything. 

They climb the stairs to Juliet’s floor in silence. Juliet fumbles with her key in her pocket in silence, too. In fact, she makes it a point to ignore Ava, choosing to bop her head along to the beat of a song she doesn’t like all that much, but she’d rather focus on that than the way her heart seems caught in her throat.

She opens her door and stands aside. “After you.” 

Ava storms through the door, finally taking her sunglasses off. Juliet shuts and locks the door behind them, tossing her keys into the clay bowl she’d made a few years ago on a trip to the city. It’s a little misshapen and the glaze is somewhat uneven, but she’s always thought it represents her life, in a weird way.

Juliet ignores Ava until she’s pulled her headphones out and cut the music. When she looks up, Ava is standing in the center of her living room with her arms crossed, appraising the space like she’s waiting for something to jump out at her. Still, the sight of Ava standing in Juliet’s space, amongst her plants and blankets and ridiculously expensive plush rugs, has her breath hitching in her chest. 

Ava looks at her then. Juliet’s thankful for the flush still on her cheeks for masking her blush at the realization that Ava definitely can hear her troubled breathing and pounding heart. It’s not fair, really, being a human amongst vampires when they all get hyper-senses and all she has is some particularly exquisite blood. 

“You know where everything is,” Juliet says at last. She walks through her living room on pleasantly tired legs. “Make yourself at home. Just please don’t break anything.” 

Ava stiffens. “Where are you going?” 

Juliet pauses in the doorway to her bedroom. “To shower.” She lifts a brow. “Unless you prefer I smell like sweat?” 

Her eyes are drawn to the fluttering muscle in Ava’s jaw. She tries not to think too hard about what the look of it does to her, how it makes her stomach do an uneasy flip.

Ava turns away. “Fine.”

Juliet rolls her eyes and closes the door behind her. In the silence of her room she almost feels normal, except for the nerves gnawing away at her ribcage and the knowledge that Ava is standing in her living room after a month of ignoring her.

Juliet tugs the hair tie from her hair and tosses it on her dresser. A shower will be good. A shower will calm her down, will soothe her aching muscles and temper her frayed nerves. It’ll give her a minute to collect her thoughts, even though all she really wants to do is go out and give Ava a piece of her mind.

She shakes her head and turns on the bathroom light. The shower head sputters to life when she twists the knob and she pulls off her shirt as she gives the water a minute to heat up. She leaves her clothes in a pile on the floor and steps under the stream.

It can’t be a coincidence that Ava is here the day after Nat’s talk. Nat hasn’t meddled much so far, though Juliet knows that her and Ava have had — discussions.. About Ava. About her. About whatever has been taking up the air between her and Ava for months now.

No, it couldn’t be a coincidence. There’s only one person who could really, truly, get Ava to do anything with just a look, a suggestion of an action. Perhaps it’s a good thing Nat is there in the background, steadfast and ready to listen to whatever either of them have to say, or to interpret all the things never said. 

Besides, Nat knows Ava better than anyone. Better than Juliet, definitely. She isn’t sure how long Nat and Ava have been friends, but from the way they act, Juliet’s sure it’s been longer than a century. Way longer, though she isn’t sure, and she’ll have to ask Nat.  
The water is scalding against her skin and she’s all too aware of the presence of Ava somewhere amongst her things. It’s not that she’s embarrassed to have Ava in her apartment (because Ava’s been there enough before, so much that she probably has the layout memorized), but the thought of leaving Ava to wander and take in her space without her there, to give her ample time and reason to walk out the door, makes Juliet speed through her shower in record time. 

When she gets out and dries off, the steam makes her skin warm and the thought of putting on leggings is so abhorrent she digs around in her dresser until she finds a pair of loose cotton shorts. She tugs a tank top on with it, scrunches the water from her hair, and takes a breath before she opens the door to her bedroom and prepares to see the vampire in her apartment. 

Ava is standing by the window, staring out at something on the street. Juliet tries not to look at her as she comes out of the living room. Tries not to listen to the rustle of fabric as Ava turns and follows her, silently, to the kitchen. Tries not to tense at the feeling of being watched, and instead goes to the abandoned coffee and croissant sitting on her countertop.

Ava stands there, and Juliet tries to keep her breathing controlled.

She’s imagined Ava filling the empty spaces in her life so often that having her here feels more like a dream than reality. Juliet can count on one hand how many times Ava has come here alone, even if the thought of her lingers in every lonely spot of this apartment — Ava sitting on the couch, coat hanging on the tree next to the door; Ava standing at the window, looking out at the trees and birds and people wandering the sidewalk below; Ava hovering in the doorway to Juliet’s bedroom, golden in the evening light.

Ava takes up the space in Juliet’s kitchen now, and Juliet doesn’t need to imagine the look on her face because she already knows what it is, already has it memorized: hesitation and pain lingering in green eyes, shut out with a stone mask of deliberate indifference. The same look Ava has given her every day for the last few weeks. 

Juliet keeps her back to Ava even though all she wants to do is turn and look at her. She wants to trace the sharp cut of Ava’s jaw with her eyes and take in the curve of her cheek. She hasn’t seen Ava for longer than five minutes outside of Agency business in weeks, and she’s missed the bright green of Ava’s eyes. The piece of hair that never seems to stay in her bun. 

She’s missed a lot of things about Ava. Too much. All of it. 

“I’m surprised you even came,” Juliet says. She needs something to keep her eyes away from Ava so she focuses on the long-cold coffee in the paper travel cup. She pops the lid off and sticks it in the microwave, setting the timer and reaching for the bag that holds her croissant. She isn’t hungry, not anymore, but she pulls the pastry from the bag and sets it on the counter while she goes searching for a ziploc to put it in. “You’ve been busy.”

“Yes, well,” Ava starts, and Juliet’s heart has no business skipping a beat like that. She yanks open a drawer. “It’s important to keep you safe, since you refuse to stay at the Warehouse where — “ 

Juliet grabs a plastic bag and slams the drawer shut with her hip. The impact makes her nearly flinch, and she realizes that it was probably uncomfortably loud for Ava’s hypersenses, but she still refuses to look at the vampire standing like a slab of stubborn marble in the doorway of the kitchen. “You never asked me to stay at the Warehouse, Ava.” 

Ava shifts, and Juliet imagines she’s got her arms crossed. Imagines the flex of strong bicep under Ava’s t-shirt and the pull of her shoulders. Imagines the way there’s probably a slight flush of her cheeks, rosy pink atop creamy skin, and the idea of it is delightfully thrilling, even if Juliet’s annoyed enough that she has no urge to revel in it like she might’ve a month ago. 

“I would’ve thought staying at the Warehouse was an obvious choice,” Ava grits out. “It is secure, and we can keep watch of you there.” 

Juliet puts a lot of thought into not crushing her poor croissant in her hand as she slides it into the plastic bag. If she takes an extra few seconds to zip the bag and get herself under control, well, that’s none of Ava’s business. 

“No one else has an issue staying with me here,” she says after a beat of silence. The microwave beeps and she goes to retrieve her coffee. “Just send Nat or Farah. They don’t mind staying with me.” 

“It’s better to keep you close to —“ Ava’s mouth shuts like a trap, and it nearly snares Juliet, nearly forces her to turn and look at Ava even though she’s decided she won’t look at her. 

The cup is hot as Juliet takes it out of the microwave. “Finish the sentence, Ava.”

A beat of hesitation, heavy and looming. Juliet blows on the surface of her coffee, watching the steam dissipate in the air between her and the cabinet. She waits.

“It’s better to keep you close to the team,” Ava concludes, though the words are tight, slanted next to each other with no room to move. The sound of them ignites beneath Juliet’s skin, and she turns to face Ava, coffee forgotten on the counter.

“That’s not what you were going to say,” Juliet snaps. Ava, somehow, stiffens. “You always do this.”

Ava frowns. It’s small, restrained, just enough to crack the mask. “I don’t — “

“If you’re just mad at me, tell me.”

The frown turns to shock — all pinched brows and a flicker of uncertainty, a cloud over the brightness of the sun. Ava doesn’t drop her arms, but her grip on her bicep tightens.

“I’m not angry with you, Detective,” Ava says, and damnit, she sounds genuine. Too genuine for Juliet to doubt the truthfulness of the statement. Besides, she knows Ava well enough to know when she’s lying. 

She’s not lying this time.

Juliet crosses her own arms. “Then why have you been avoiding me?”

Ava’s mouth stays stubbornly shut. Juliet can practically see the gears turning in her head, so to save them both from the suffering silence, Juliet crosses the No Man’s Land between them until she’s standing in front of Ava, chin tilted so she can look her in the eye. 

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Ava stares at her. “I have.”

Juliet nods. It feels like they’ve created a vacuum in the kitchen, just her and Ava, and the air is rapidly running out and she’s not sure how to break free. Juliet takes a breath, collects her thoughts, feels the anger and annoyance that’s been simmering away deep in her chest for the last week start to cool with the knowledge that at least Ava, for the most part, is aware of why Juliet is so angry.

“You don’t need to avoid me.” Juliet wants to reach out. Wants to put her hand on Ava’s arm, her shoulder, her cheek. She’d do it if she was sure Ava wouldn’t run away. The heat of Ava’s skin is a lesson in temptation, desire, and Juliet imagines that one day, when Ava lets her, she’ll give in and taste the fruit of it.

“I do,” Ava admits, and those two words spoken so softly land like bullets, battering into her with a sharp, blinding pain that throws the world sideways. Newfound tightness in her throat nearly makes Juliet choke, but she swallows it down and drives through. Refuses to succumb to the deadly weight of those two words.

“No, you don’t.” At Ava’s silence, Juliet breaches the empty space in front of her. She takes a step forward, tentative and halting. Ava doesn’t move. “I don’t know what I’ve done, but Ava — “

“You haven’t done anything,” Ava says, and there it is again — the conviction. The candor that Juliet doesn’t know what to do with.

She frowns. “That doesn’t seem like the case.”

“It’s me.” Ava drops her arms. The green of her eyes slides away from Juliet to glance out the window where the leaves of the tree outside rustle in a breeze, a cacophony of whispers so quiet to Juliet but most likely loud as a drum to Ava. “It’s...it is my own fault, Detective.”

Juliet shakes her head. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

The clench of Ava’s jaw is enough of a disagreement. Juliet ventures a step closer. Ava still doesn’t move. 

“Look, Ava, if this is about the carnival or the crime scene — I’m sorry. Okay?” Juliet clasps her hands in front of her, lacing her fingers together in an anxious knot that doesn’t do nearly as much as she’d like to relieve the tension stiffening her muscles. “I won’t do it again.”

Ava goes deathly still. She looks not unlike a cornered animal, something akin to fear tightening the corners of her mouth and forcing the room to dip into frigid temperatures despite the comfortable heat outside. They stand in regretful silence, and this time the air has been sucked out of Juliet’s lungs with enough force that she wonders if her lungs are even working; if her chest has caved in without her noticing. 

She isn’t about to open her mouth, not when she’s sure if she says the wrong thing Ava will catapult herself through the window in broad daylight just to halt the festering nerve of this entire conversation before something devastating cracks the vacuum of the kitchen open. Ava’s form of self-preservation has kept her alive for 900 years, so perhaps it isn’t horrible, even if it has led them to this uncomfortable stillness.

Juliet shifts awkwardly, resting her weight on her hip. Ava slowly unthaws, cool water pooling onto the floor until Ava turns and looks at her like she holds the sun in her hands, like she could cause glorious destruction with just one flare of light, dangerous and beautiful and tragically golden.

Ava’s stare is solid and unwavering. “I want you to.” 

Juliet nearly topples over. “What?”

“I want you to continue, Detective,” Ava continues slowly, like the words are shrapnel she’s trying to carefully extract. “What you did. What you’re doing. I want you to...continue.”

Juliet stares at her. Eyes wide and mouth open like a gaping fish. Ava keeps locked in place, and Juliet forces her mouth closed after a moment.

“Oh...okay,” Juliet says. 

Ava nods. “All right.” She drops her arms and turns. “I’ll be going then.”

Ava’s halfway to the door before Juliet’s brain has processed the words. Once she realizes, she bolts, and Ava is reaching for the door when Juliet wedges herself between the knob and Ava’s hand, her fingertips hovering an inch from Juliet’s stomach.

“You aren’t leaving,” Juliet tells her, with enough command in the words that it shocks even herself. Ava doesn’t look as impressed; in fact, she looks downright annoyed, with narrowed eyes and a slight frown tugging at the corners of her mouth, rose-petal pink and distracting. 

“Detective,” Ava starts, and the title rockets through Juliet, pinging against her heart and ribs and slicing through her bloodstream until her entire body is alight with both anger and exasperation. 

“Don’t ’Detective’ me, Ava,” Juliet snaps. “You aren’t doing this. You aren’t saying something that freaks you out and then just — just bolting. I’m tired of it.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Ava says tightly. 

“No, you’re not.” The doorknob presses uncomfortably against Juliet’s spine. Her focus narrows in on the dull curve of the knob to keep herself from doing something regrettable. “If you were sorry, you wouldn’t do it every damn time I try to get close to you. If you were sorry, you’d tell me what the problem is and let us both move on.”

Ava seems like she’s going to take a step back, but she doesn’t. She just drops her hand. She looks...defeated. Normally impeccable posture is curved inwards, and she seems to be pleading. With herself or with Juliet, she isn’t sure. 

“You shouldn’t be scared of me,” Juliet continues. “Nat said — Nat said you were scared of me. Of what I make you feel. But Ava, you don’t need to be scared of that. At all.”

“Juliet,” Ava whispers, anda fissure appears in the ice. It makes Juliet reach out and grab Ava’s bare forearm. Ava jerks as if she’s been slapped but she doesn’t pull away, doesn’t yank herself out of Juliet’s grasp like she’s done before.

And for someone who's been called an Ice Queen, she’s warmer than the balmy summer day outside.

“Ava.” A murmur. It’s no louder than the heartbeat pounding in Juliet’s ears. She’s convinced Ava would hear her across the world, no matter how quiet her voice is, no matter how far the distance between them stretches.

Something softens in Ava’s eyes. The fissure becomes a crack and widens into a yawning crevice that Juliet’s ready to swan-dive into. She knows if the ice melts, if the glaciers recede, she’ll see nothing but bright warm fields, a palette of wildflowers painting a rainbow of colors into the scenery. 

It’s just a matter of melting the ice.

“Juliet,” Ava murmurs, just as soft, pain wrapped around the shape of her name like a noose. 

An inch wider. An inch wider, and Juliet steps forward. She doesn’t think, doesn’t let her brain talk her out of this. Not this time. 

She wraps one arm around Ava’s waist, her other hand trailing up to cup her jaw. She brushes her thumb over the curve of Ava’s cheek, soft skin to soft skin, and she watches a flush follow wherever she touches. 

It’s scary, how they’ve been in the same position twice within the last two weeks. There’s nothing but their breaths echoing in the apartment, the world narrowed to just a touch. Juliet has to press onto her tiptoes to gain some height, and still she doesn’t even reach Ava’s eye level. 

“Are you going to stay this time?” Juliet whispers, watching Ava’s eyes slip shut as she gets closer. “I don’t want you to keep running away, Ava.”

Ava lets out a shuddering exhale, and Juliet feels the slightest tremble. Someone so still so often, and she’s shaking, not enough that anyone looking at her would notice, but just enough that under the touch, Juliet can feel it.

A long time ago, the idea of Ava succumbing to being vulnerable, to being scared, in whatever way Ava can be scared, would have been unheard of. Something about her, the fearless, steadfast leader of Unit Bravo, having this reaction to her, never would have crossed Juliet’s mind. It seems ridiculous, absolutely mad, and yet…

And yet, Ava trembles. And yet, she squeezes her eyes closed as Juliet brushes her fingers along the sharp cut of Ava’s jaw. And yet, goosebumps rise wherever Juliet touches, and Ava’s breath holds, and Juliet keeps still, keeps a grip on Ava even though Ava’s strong enough, fast enough, to get away whenever she wants. She has gotten away, too many times, too many moments lost to a shuddering retreat, leaving Juliet stranded in the barren aftermath, confused and hurt and lingering, waiting, yearning for…

For what? For Ava’s love? Her attention? For some semblance of acknowledgement that there is something between them? Perhaps it’s fated, perhaps it’s divine or written in time or woven in the fabric of their lives, or maybe it isn’t. Maybe it’s not so simple or maybe it isn’t as complex as they’ve been making it — Juliet’s push and Ava’s pull, the dance of waves against the shore of this thing that keeps Ava’s body locked in place against Juliet’s, so close, yet Juliet’s waiting for the moment the tide recedes. 

But it doesn’t. So Juliet presses closer. Brushes a thumb over the corner of Ava’s mouth, the touch of butterfly wings, and waits for Ava to pull away. 

She doesn’t. 

It’s just like the crime scene. Except this time, Ava stays rooted to the hardwood of the apartment, the warmth of her bleeding into the rug and the walls and the sunlight breaking in through the windows. Her eyes are still closed, and Juliet makes an insistent noise, touches the flushed skin of Ava’s cheek. 

“Ava,” Juliet murmurs, no louder than a heartbeat, no quieter than the hush of a secret. “Open your eyes.” 

And she does. Spring grass green to sky, sun-gold speckled blue, and Juliet smiles. 

Ava breathes out and it sounds like Juliet’s name. Sounds like a promise, or maybe Juliet has just become a sickening romantic. But there’s something tucked into the sound Ava makes, quiet and unobtrusive, something just for Juliet that she can’t quite identify. 

Ava’s eyes shine. 

Juliet says, “I’m going to kiss you. Okay?” 

And Ava says, “Okay.”

Ava doesn’t move away. Doesn’t run. Not even when Juliet slides her hand to the back of Ava’s head and tugs her down to close the height distance between them. Not even when Juliet hesitates, just for a fleeting breath, and Ava’s hands slide to her waist and squeeze. 

Not even when Juliet leans up and presses her mouth to Ava’s, and it’s Juliet’s turn to squeeze her eyes shut, to let herself feel Ava’s lips beneath hers, soft and warm and forgiving. There aren’t fireworks — maybe Juliet isn’t becoming a romantic — but it is, in its own way, much like the hollow groan of ice cracking and revealing a glimpse of cold blue water. A fault line of redirection creating a division between now and then. 

Ava pulls back and Juliet lets her. She’s never thought she’d get this far, if she’s honest, and if Ava leaves after this, if she goes back to brooding silence and avoidance and dodging, well. At least Juliet knows what her kiss feels like. 

There’s a frown on Ava’s face when Juliet opens her eyes. The slightest draw of her eyebrows together, the frantic beat of her heart under a heaving chest, the stray strands of hair Juliet brushes behind Ava’s ear, and Ava doesn’t push Juliet out of the circle of her arms, much to her surprise. 

The silence stretches in the space between their mouths until Juliet has a frown of her own on her face. “Ava — ?” 

And Ava surprises her again when she dips down and kisses her, urgent and driving and blazing like the sun. Heat envelopes her, lines her limbs and makes her weightless and floating and when Ava’s lips part beneath hers she welcomes it, revels in the feel of ice warming and melting beneath her fingers.

It’s glorious, really. Glorious even if it’s too short. 

Juliet makes a small noise against Ava’s mouth and Ava slowly retreats, pulling away, and before Juliet can let the disappointment sink in, Ava presses her forehead against Juliet’s, their noses nearly touching.

They stand suspended in silence, nothing but their breaths dancing with one another’s. Juliet feels her heart rate slow to a steady, moderate pace, and stops shaking.

“I’m — “ Ava starts, and Juliet shakes her head.

“Don’t apologize,” Juliet says. Ava frowns, then chuckles. 

“I should — “

“You should stay,” 

Ava’s mouth thins. Juliet prepares for the rejection, readies herself to spend the rest of the day and evening alone in her apartment. Maybe she’ll call Tina — 

“Alright,” Ava says.

Juliet nearly kisses her again. 

And this time, Ava stays.

-

It’s nearly dawn the next day when Ava arrives back at the Warehouse, parking the behemoth of a Suburban in the gravel just out of view of the road. Juliet, still half-asleep in the passenger seat, groans when the car stops.

“Why do you guys call these meetings so early?” She whines, unbuckling her seatbelt and tossing the door open, the early-morning breeze dissipating the gentle heat of the car. 

“Dawn is hardly early,” Ava frowns, and Juliet rolls her eyes.

“Says the vampire,” Juliet says. She turns her face skyward as she jumps out of the car, boots crunching on the gravel just before she shuts the door. “Sky’s pretty, though.”

Ava thinks so, too, but she refrains from responding as she climbs out of the car herself. She can’t help the way her shoulders are tense even if last night had been — well, relaxing, to some extent. 

As she shuts the door of the Suburban, a familiar scent hits her. Warm, heady, rich in more ways then one. She bears Juliet’s smiled “good morning” next, and then Nat’s lyrical reply.

Nat stands by the door, and though she looks like she was just coming back from a walk, Ava knows her friend has been lingering here, most likely waiting for their return. Nat smiles when she spots her, then chuckles at something Juliet says as Ava comes to a stop in front of them.

“Good morning,” Nat says. “I’m glad to see you two.”

Juliet glances at Ava, a smile barely contained. 

“I’ll meet you two inside,” Juliet says suddenly, sliding past Nat and through the doorway. She stops just inside, holding up a hand to shade her eyes from the sun. “Don’t take too long, okay?”

Ava merely nods, and Juliet disappears. Her footsteps are just about out of hearing range when Nat smiles knowingly, and Ava nearly groans.

“I was worried when you didn’t return,” Nat says. “I thought something may have happened.”

“Nothing happened,” Ava replies gruffly, though, admittedly, she knows what Nat means. She crosses her arms. “And even if something had, I could have well taken care of it.”

Nat smiles, long and conspiratorial. Ava knows her cheeks are getting pinker, but she desperately hopes the sherbet pink of the sky hides it. 

“I don’t know what happened,” Nat continues, stepping forward and resting a hand on Ava’s shoulder. “But I’m happy for you, old friend. I truly am.”

Ava deflates under the touch just a bit. “I...thank you, Nat.”

Nat’s smile doesn’t dim, but she turns and pushes open the Warehouse door. “Come. Best not to keep the unit waiting. I’m sure Farah could get into trouble with us gone.”

They’ll have to talk about it, Ava realizes as they head inside. Nat won’t force her, but she won’t let it lie. Ava isn’t sure if she’s upset about the prospect, but she knows that if anyone would understand her, could help her navigate, it would be Nat.

As Nat holds the door open, she glances up at the sky. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

It really is.


End file.
